


no one would miss me . . .

by Lacri_567



Category: Regular Show
Genre: Benson and Pops decide to help, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Mordecai, Cutting, Dangerous Substances are used, Depressed Rigby, Depression, Insomnia, M/M, Male Slash, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Original Characters appear in later chapters, Rigby has insomnia, an OC of mine introduces Rigby to vaporwave(later chapters), anti-depressants and sleeping meds, dangerous objects are used, happens sometime between season three and five, possible Mordecai/Rigby, pre-Regular Show the Movie, pre-finale, warning: Cutting and suicidal elements, why do I keep writing depressing shit?, written with the help of some really sad vaporwave music
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 19:00:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13933278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacri_567/pseuds/Lacri_567
Summary: ((Contains suicidal elements))A depressed and sleep deprived Rigby tries effortlessly to rest. But his body just won't let him. He lies awake at night, wondering how everyone would be happier without the small raccoon. Mordecai accidentally discovers his best friend's problem with cutting himself and tries to prevent it, making Rigby a angry mess.((Happens before season 4, pre-movie and pre-finale.))((Pops is still alive during this.))





	no one would miss me . . .

######  no one would miss me . . .

(a Regular Show fanfiction.)

 

It was always night when he had these thoughts. Staring at the ceiling, laying on his small trampoline, thinking people would be better off without him. His bushy tail would always end up in his hands, as he smoothed it out. He would listen to the cricket chirping outside the windows and the small, familiar sound of Mordecai breathing as he slept. He kept smoothing his tail, remembering that he had a few razor blades in a cabinet, hidden underneath his clothes. He had only used them twice; once after Mordecai and him got into an argument, the second time after doubting himself. He looked at the cabinet, then back to Mordecai. The sleeping bird always made chirping noises whilst asleep, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hear Rigby step out of their bedroom. Rigby yawned, and moved one of his hands to rub one of his eyes. He looked over at the alarm clock on Mordecai’s nightstand. It read an agonizing  **3:30 AM,** meaning he only had about 3 hours before going to work. “ _ Shit. _ ” He whispered, and he cursed himself for staying up so late. He always noticed the way Benson and Mordecai looked at him in the morning, wincing at the vain-consumed purple rings around and under his eyes. He knew the stares. He hated them.  Everyone in the staff knew Rigby’s inner clock was completly destroyed, as he would normal be up at 2:00 AM trying desperately to go back to sleep. It got so bad that Mordecai made him stop drinking Tylenol PM and prevented him from banging his head on various chests and cabinets. He actually knocked himself unconscious once by forcing his head to hit a marble top table, and Mordecai found him the next morning. He almost called the hospital. When he asked why he did it, Rigby snapped and told him it was none of his fucking business. But Mordecai knew, he knew it was because the poor guy just wanted sleep. 

Benson got rid of the sleeping medicine, and this threw Rigby into a silent rage. That’s when the depression started.  _ That’s when the cutting started.  _

 

Luckily, the scars on his skinny arms had faded. Rigby looked at them, the moonlight hitting them and showing them to his tired eyes. He threw himself back onto his back, letting out a quiet “ughhhh.” He couldn't get his mind off of the razor blades sitting in the cabinet, clawing at his eyes to make the thoughts stop. He breathed slowly, remembering what made him rest easily before. He yawned once again. He pulled himself up, and set his feet on the smooth wood floor. He quietly stepped towards the cabinet, slowly pulling on the metal handle until it quietly opened. He shifted through his clothes and pulled out a small shaving razor, then covered the other three with the clothes again. He silently closed it, and made his way towards the door of the bedroom. He slowly walked past Mordecai’s bed, exiting the room and entering the bathroom right across from it. Rigby sat on the lid of the toilet, practicing some slides on his wrist with the dull side of the blade. Then he hesitantly flipped it over to the sharp side, examing the blade before slowly putting it downwards to the middle of his arm. He slowly inhaled, as his started to slide the blade across his arm. He hissed, and exhaled as the blade made a clear, bloody cut on his skinny arm. From the bedroom, Mordecai stirred awake, as he heard Rigby’s painful hissing from the bathroom. He pulled himself upwards and set his feet on the ground, getting up to make sure the small raccoon was alright. 

“Rigby? You okay?” He asked quietly, knowing Pops was asleep in the room right across from them. He opened the door to the bathroom, witnessing Rigby looking at him with widened eyes and a clear line of blood gushing down his arm, a bloodstained razorblade in his right hand. 

Mordecai’s eyes widened, as he slowly let go of the doorknob.  _ Holy shit . . . _ he thought. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you are having suicidal thoughts or having problems cutting yourself, please consult a therapist or counselor or call a suicide hotline. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, prepare for more extremely depressing shit.


End file.
